Back and There Again
by I don't post here anymore
Summary: A collection of pocket-sized tales about a hobbit among dwarves, and his less-than-important mini-adventures that would have made the movie fourteen hours long had they all been included. [Movieverse accompaniment drabbles.]
1. Author's Note

**All I wanted was a good Hobbit fanfiction to satiate my ever-growing Hobbit hunger and obsession with Bilbo. (Really what I need is Part 2.) But after a long search through the archives, what did I find? An overabundance of slash, and too many OCs and self-insertions than should be legal. It was thoroughly disappointing. Where are all the accompaniment stories? Where's the Bilbo whump? (Because let's face it: he's absolutely the most adorable thing in all of Middle Earth when he's flustered.)**

**What's a girl to do? Well, I suppose she must actually **_**write **_**the stories she wishes to read.**

**So without further ado, I give you (in Hobbit-size) my completely pairing-less and OC-free, movieverse accompaniment drabbles, all of which range from Bag-End to the Lonely Mountain, and take place between all the recorded adventures. They will chiefly be Bilbo-centric, but other character will be present. There may also be slight violence and whumpage here and there, but nothing too extreme (I intend to keep it K+).**


	2. A Dish Best Served Instead of Revenge

Dessert is a Dish Best Served Instead of Revenge

They were alive. The dwarves had escaped the clutches of the Goblin King, and Bilbo had escaped the clutches of whatever-that-wretched-creature-in-the-cave was. And then, by some miracle on wings, they had all escaped certain death at the hands of the Pale Orc and his minions. All in the course of 24 hours! Bilbo was convinced that no small amount of luck accompanied them on this foolhardy adventure. They had all survived almost completely unscathed. Well, all except Thorin, whose wounds from the warg were indeed severe, though not life-threatening. So, as soon as they reached the base of the mountain on which the eagles had left them, the dwarves set up camp, and Gandalf had set about attending Thorin's injuries.

Bilbo hadn't felt so cheerful since leaving Rivendell. Though the dwarves had already grown accustomed to his presence, accepting him as part of the company, it was Thorin's acceptance that seemed to seal the deal, making it official.

It was Thorin and company, no longer Thorin and company _and_ Bilbo Baggins.

So he was quite surprised with himself (and slightly guilty) that he felt a small twinge of satisfaction whenever Thorin yelped and grunted in pain.

_Mr. Baggins!_ he mentally scolded to himself. _To feel such a way after Thorin has finally warmed up to you!_ (Better late than never.) But, in his own defense, Thorin _had_ continually been a total jerk to him. And, really, it wasn't as if it was revenge...it was more like Thorin had received his just desserts. Anyway, it was the dwarf's own fault that he had been good and bitten by that warg. Bilbo had even tried to defend him!

The hobbit nodded to himself as the Tookish side felt that there was no reason for him to feel guilty. But, of course, he was mostly a Baggins, and he told himself that a Baggins would forgive and forget.

And so, he put away those thoughts. _After_ Thorin had finally gone silent.

* * *

**(A/N: Because we all know that Thorin completely deserved being chomped on by that warg.)**


	3. A Mutual Understanding

A Mutual Understanding

_"What is that?" Bofur asked, staring curiously at Bilbo's side. The hobbit turned, puzzled, and followed his gaze to the sword belted to his own hip. The sword that was so alien to him, and yet whose weight already felt so familiar. The sword that would certainly never cause any _real_ damage in battle, but that Bilbo couldn't bear the thought of parting with. The sword that was now shimmering with an eery sapphire light in the darkness of the cave. _

_Bewildered, Bilbo drew it an inch from its sheathe as Gandalf's words echoed through his brain._

No...

_Slowly, he lifted his head, recognition spreading over his face, and looked hopelessly at the dwarf. _

_It was already too late. _

_There was nothing he could do. _

I'm sorry. I'm so sorry_. _

_Bofur understood_.

* * *

Neither of them spoke of it to any of the others. Bilbo because he was certain that if they knew, the dwarves would turn him into their personal gobblin beacon, and Bofur because he knew it wasn't his to tell. It remained their secret, and both soon found themselves frequently checking the Elvish blade.  
It was much, much later though, before Bilbo felt the faint trace of heat against his side. Desperate, he frantically searched the dwarves' faces until he saw him.

Their eyes met, and Bofur immediately knew.

"Gobblins!" he shouted.

This time they were prepared.

* * *

**I like the idea of Bilbo and Bofur becoming bros. **


	4. Home Behind, the World Ahead

**A/N - This was based off a brief moment in one of the video blogs of The Hobbit, which was basically just a screenshot of Bilbo, standing in his doorway and gazing into the distance. The expression on his face was enough to make me excited again for the first movie, so you can understand how ready I am for _The_ _Desolation_. I NEED MORE BILBO.**

* * *

Home Behind, the World Ahead

"I'm sorry, I can't sign this," Bilbo said, backing away from the wizard. "You've got the wrong hobbit."

He saw the flicker of disappointment in Gandalf's eyes, which quickly turned to resignation.

"Well, if that is your choice," was all he said, looking away and pulling on his pipe.

Bilbo all but fled to his room. He needed to escape. He needed to shut out the world.

But when he made to close his door and with it the horror of dragons and the notion of adventures, something stayed his hand. He wasn't sure what it was as he peeked through the crack in the door that was his only barrier between magic and mundane. Instead, he turned and sat on the edge of his four-poster bed, leaving his door slightly ajar. The talk and goings on of the dwarves seem to have come to a conclusion, for all he could hear was the steady crackle of the fire, and the heavy breathing of the fourteen visitors in his living room.

He leaned against a bedpost as the silence dragged on and on, unable to bring himself to settle down for the night, even though he felt so physically and mentally drained.

The scent of smoke and weed filled his nostrils.

He must have started slipping into unconsciousness, for when a deep, haunting melody rose from beyond his door and floated into his room, he jerked awake, suddenly alert. It was the dwarves, and they were singing. Bilbo couldn't help but listen. And as he listened, he felt a glimmer of longing bubble up in his stomach. A longing for something he couldn't quite place...

He closed his eyes, remaining motionless as the song continued, and even after it had died down.

He didn't know how long he simply sat there.

It seemed mere moments later when the sun came pouring through his windows, signalling the beginning of a new day. At first he was quite ready to simply relax in bed and forget, at the moment, whatever business he would eventually have to see to.

But then he remembered.

The dwarves. The wizard. The kingdom. The dragon.

Images from the previous night flooded to the foreground of his mind, and he sat bolt upright.

All was quiet.

He peered 'round his bedroom door, and, seeing nothing and no one, tiptoed into the hall. All traces of mud and dirt were gone from his carpet. His hardwood floors were sparkling. He craned his head around into the next room, and saw that every chair had been returned to its rightful place. There wasn't a dirty dish in the sink.

"Hello?" he hesitantly called, and when there was no answer, he chanced a quick pace through the rest of the house, peering in every room and finding things in perfect order.

Not a dwarf in sight. Not even a sign that they had been there. Well, except for the empty pantry.

Bilbo strolled slowly into his living room. He felt he should have been pleased that the dwarves were gone.

And yet...

He glanced down at the ottoman sitting at the foot of his favorite armchair, on which still lay the contract. Astonished, he picked it up, staring at the signatures at the bottom of the paper. He thought he had made it perfectly clear to Gandalf that he would _not_ be joining the company.

But he suddenly felt that longing, that tug in his gut again. Indecision threatened to overpower him as he glanced at the window, leading to the outside. He rushed to the door, flung it open, and stepped into the morning breeze. It made him dizzy...so perfect a day when he felt so tumultuous within. From his house he could see all of Hobbiton...the hills, the houses and the hobbits, all going about their daily lives.

And beyond the hills and the houses, he could see the world.

Maybe it was the breeze that swept his honey-blonde curls away from his face, carrying with it the scent of grass and earth, but it was as if all doubt had been swept away with it. His eyes widened, the corners of his mouth lifted, and he took a deep breath.

He had made his decision. If he let this chance go now, he would regret it forever.


End file.
